


It's about growing up

by Dylanobrienisbatman



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Based on a Childrens Book, Coming of Age, Gen, Historical AU, Modern AU, New Adult, The Magic Tree House, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 13:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dylanobrienisbatman/pseuds/Dylanobrienisbatman
Summary: Bellamy and Octavia have spent every moment of her life together, but a trip back in time in a treehouse they had played in as a kid helps to finally break open the tense air between them, and lets them find new footing.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake & Octavia Blake
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: TROPED: Madness 2.0





	It's about growing up

**Author's Note:**

> This is for TROPED Madness! 
> 
> Theme: New Adult  
> Tropes:   
> \- Roommates   
> \- Based on a Children's Book (The Magic Tree House!)

They had been in the car for two days, only stopping at a crappy motel and to eat. And to pee. So many times. Octavia swore her brother had some kind of bladder problems. Nobody should have to pee  _ this often _ . 

Octavia Blake was 25 years old, and she had lived with her older brother Bellamy her entire life. They had spent 5 years at this little house, with their uncle, before everything had fallen apart. Their mom had bailed early, when Octavia was just about 5, and their uncle Kane had taken them in. Those 5 years had been quiet and safe, but then Octavia’s mom had shown up on their doorstep when she was 10 and the tumultuous period of Octavia’s tween and teendom had begun. At age 17, Octavia had snuck out of her house and took a bus, a metro, and a taxi to her brother’s apartment on the other side of town, and had never left. They kept waiting for their mom to show up, looking for her, but she never did. Since then, it had been just the two of them. 

“I think this is the turn.” Bellamy’s voice had a distracted quality as he peered at the street signs through the misty rain. “Yes, this is it.” The car turned down the street, and it was like being transported back in time. 6 year old Octavia learning how to ride a bike. 9 year old Octavia falling off her big brother’s skateboard. That’s what this house had always represented for her. A normal life for kids who hadn’t always been promised one. 

Their uncle had died about a year ago and had left them the land, the house, and everything in it, in his will, and so they had hopped in the car and driven halfway across the country to see to it. Octavia wasn’t sure what their plan was, sell it or keep it, rent it maybe? But it didn’t matter. Bellamy said they were going, so they went. 

They pulled into the drive, the faded green paint had clearly been peeling for a while and the yard was a mess, but it still looked the same. Like home. 

Octavia pulled the key from the tiny envelope that had been tucked in her back pocket and opened the door. The house wasn’t much different from what she remembered. Some new furniture, a more modern tv, but that was to be expected 15 years later, but it still smelled the same, if a little more musty, and the walls were that same lavender grey color, and she could see at least two photos of them that were still on the mantle. 

“He kept these?” She heard Bellamy ask from somewhere deeper in the house, and followed his voice to find him in the kitchen, where a couple of poorly done paintings she and Bellamy had given Kane when they left were still hanging on the fridge, yellowing paper stiff to the touch, the paint chipped and fading. She remembered doing the painting, a child's rendition of a man and his two kids outside their house, a crude take, but she also remembered what it meant. It was a wish, a wish that one day she’d come back and live with him again. That they would be the family they had just started to be, again someday. It had never come to be, but he had kept her wish anyway. 

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes again, for the 50th or so time since she had heard the news about Kane’s death. She took a deep breath, and kept moving through the house. Her old bedroom had been converted into an office, Bellamy’s a storage room, but he had left their art on the walls, and she was pretty sure she could see a very solar system model still hanging in front of the window. He had kept pieces of them, scattered throughout his life. Reminders. She let her fingers linger on the walls and the doorframes, trying to remember what it had been like to be here. 

She heard Bellamy call her name from the front of the house and went to find him. 

“It looks like that old tree house we used to play in is still there.” He said, pointing outside into the woods out back where the dilapidated old tree house still stood. 

“Let’s go check it out.”

“It’s definitely not stable.”

“And you’re definitely no fun.”

He responded but she barely heard him, because she had started running and was halfway across the yard already. 

Standing under the tree, a million memories came flooding back. So many epic make believe tales had found their start in that tree house. They had believed it could time travel, dropping them across the globe to solve mysteries and have grand adventures. She wondered what had been so magical about this old tree house to spark such imagination in them. 

“Remember when we pretended to explore a pyramid?”

“And when we had to escape the earthquake in San Francisco?” 

“Oh absolutely.” 

“Should we go up?” She asked, already grabbing the rope ladder to climb. She thought she heard him mumble behind her but she ignored him. 

The tree house was like a time capsule, preserved exactly as she had left life 15 years ago. Their papers and books were covered in dust, a teddy bear had fallen victim to the elements in the corner, and the smell of rotting leaves was pungent. Bellamy lumbered in behind her, too tall as a grown man to fit inside this place.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe this is all still here.” 

“After we left I don’t think any other kids ever lived here. No one else to disturb it.” 

“Hey, take a look at this.” Bellamy had found an old letter, crumpled and yellowed, the words faded but still legible. 

_ Bellamy and Octavia,  _

_ It has been a long time since I have seen you here, but there is one last task I require from you. A book, one very special to me, was stolen. Please retrieve it, and my magic will be free from this Tree House, and so, I will be free.  _

_ It will be at the house with the red door. A book to guide us into a new age.  _

_ Thank you,  _

_ Becca  _

“No way.” 

“It can’t be real.” 

“Right? Like it was all make believe.” She stared at the letter, the dozens of days spent in the tree house flooding back. Letters like this, a book left open on the floor, travelling through time. 

“Well… there’s the book.” He pointed across the room, to a book open to a chapter on 1800’s Philadelphia. 

“This is ridiculous.” She walked over, leaning cautiously over. “There’s no way it was all real.” But the more she looked at the letter, the less she believed it herself. 

“Well, if it was real… We pick up the book together and we end up in 19th Century Pennsylvania.” 

“Because that doesn’t sound absolutely insane.” 

“I mean, it obviously does, but…” He glanced down at the book, an open suggestion in his eyes. 

One last adventure. And something else. Bellamy had been trying, with little success, to bring back the way they used to be when they were kids. There had been so much tension between them lately, the car ride here alone had been full of uncomfortable silence and snapping words, and neither of them seemed really willing or able to fully express whatever it was that was causing the tension. 

Maybe a little bit of magic was just what they needed. 

“Why the hell not.” She shrugged, reaching out to take his hand as they leaned down to pick up the book together. 

The wind began to rush, the leaves and loose paper flying around them, a warm breeze turning fast, whipping their hair and their clothes. They squeezed their eyes shut, and as suddenly as the racus had begun, it ended. 

Silence took over the room, and then she heard church bells. 

And… wagons… and horses?

She looked out the window of the treehouse, and out over what could only be 19th Century Philadelphia. 

“What the-”

“Fuck.” Bellamy finished for her, his face mirroring the same dumbstruck expression she was sure was painted over her own. 

They stood for a second, frozen in the confusion, before she snapped herself out of it and grabbed the book from his hands. 

“There was always a clue to what we were looking for in the book somewhere.” She offered, already distracted as she picked through the book. History of the town, stories of the revolution and the political history of America… “That’s it!” 

She flipped the book around, showing a photograph of a house with a red door. Under the photo was a description.  _ The home of Benjamin Franklin. _

“He was a-”

“He was an extremely prolific writer! There could be a million different things she could be asking us for.” Before Octavia could even get a word in Bellamy started to spiral. He always did this, refused to listen to her. It made her a little crazy. 

“Well, Becca was always looking for books that had a focus in science and technologies, if I remember correctly?” 

Bellamy didn’t seem to be listening, so she just ignored him in favor of the dress and menswear that had appeared in the corner as if by magic. She snapped him out of his freak out to dress, and then made her way down the rope ladder and out of the woods, into a busy park. 

This was always the part she found the most interesting. Living a day in the life of someone in history. Walking in their shoes, seeing the world as they had seen it. It fascinated her, and seeing it now, as an adult, she had an entirely new appreciation for what she was experiencing. 

“How are we going to find his house?” Bellamy asked in a hushed whisper, and she just rolled her eyes. 

“Well, we’re tourists, brother. We ask someone.” 

“We can’t just  _ ask  _ someone!” He seemed affronted at the suggestion. “We don’t know the dialect, we don’t know the accent, we could completely-”

“Bellamy, we used to romp around the past as a 7 year old and a 12 year old. I assure you we did much more damage back then than we could ever do now.” That seemed to shut him up, and so she opened the parasol that had appeared as if by magic for her and led him towards a woman selling knit shawls. 

“Excuse me maam, but could you point us towards Benjamin Franklin’s home? We’re visiting and heard it was a sight to see!” 

“Oh why yes of course!” The woman smiled, and pointed them down the road, giving cursory instructions. “And it’ll be the one with the red door on your left, there.” 

“Thank you, maam.” She said with a smile, and they were off. 

“It’s gotta be more difficult than this. We always ended up in the thick of trouble.”

“We were also kids, and we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.” 

“So we just… walk into the house… and steal a book?” 

He had a fair point. How  _ were  _ they going to get the book? 

And what book were they even looking for? 

“We will deal with that when we get there.” She said, instead of further supporting his nerves, and they kept on walking. 

The house with the red door was easy enough to spot, mostly because of the massive line of people waiting to get inside. 

“We can’t just walk in in broad daylight and steal a book.” Bellamy whispered, and she had to admit, he had a point. There was no way they’d be able to get in and out without being seen. 

“So… we wait?” She offered, and he just looked at her. “We go back to the treehouse, we wait until dark, and then we come back. It’s the fucking 1800’s, no way that house is harder to get into than any of the places we broke into as teenagers.” 

“We’re gonna B&E Ben Franklin’s house.” She could feel the historian in him cringing. 

“I mean it’s not like he’s alive to see it.” 

Based on his expression, this did little to make him feel better, but he followed her back to the treehouse anway. Thankfully the day had already begun to wane, and it was only a few hours till dark had taken over the sky. She roused Bellamy from where he had been napping uncomfortably on the floor and they set off. 

“I wish we had brought some snacks with us.” She grumbled as her stomach growled loudly. “Gonna totally ruin our plan if my  _ stomach  _ gives us away.” 

They made their way to the house and Bellamy walked up towards the front door before she grabbed him to pull him back. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t try and B&E through the front door?” A glance around proved this was a good idea, considering the meandering drunkards and the businessmen heading home from a late evening. 

“Good call.” He whispered, his eyes scanning the house, and locking onto a fence in the corner. “There.” He pointed, and they went. They followed the path around until they found a servants entrance down on the side of the house. A few seconds with a bobby pin and the locked clicked open. 

The house was dark, and silent, so they made their way cautiously up the stairs until they came across an oil lamp in the hall that had been lit. She picked it up to light the way, and they followed the hallways around and through until they found a library. 

“Science and tech, you said?” Bellamy asked, already peering at the dusty spines of the books in the dark. So he had been listening. 

“Yeah… “A book to guide us into the new age”, whatever that means.” 

The search was long, but at some point, she heard Bellamy make a satisfied gasp, and he pulled out a hefty volume. 

“The complete scientific writings of Benjamin Franklin.” He said proudly, holding it up to the light. 

“Well if that’s not what Becca was looking for in this room full of books, I have no idea what it would be.” 

Satisfied, they followed the winding corridors back out and onto the street. 

Only to be met with the police. 

“Heard some suspicious folk were rummaging about, seems we were right.” The officer said, a menacing snarl on his face. 

Bellamy and Octavia exchanged a look, and without a word took off at a dead sprint. The police were yelling, the people in the streets were staring, calling out, directing the officers at them, but their quick pace and fast start gave them the advantage they needed. They darted through the city, their time as street kids paying off as they wove between people and through crowds of drunken men, barreling towards the treehouse at full speed. 

The officers were close behind, but they had no idea where the treehouse was, and that gave them the last little bit of luck they needed. They darted through the trees, running this way and that, splitting up to break the officers off their trail, and after sufficiently confusing them, they found their way to the base of the rope ladder and up they climbed. 

The slammed the door on the floor closed behind them and grabbed the book, and just as they heard the officers finding their way below them, the wind began to rush, the pages of the books began to flutter, and the tree house poofed them right out of danger, landing them back in Kane’s yard. 

They flopped down on the floor, exhausted and out of breath. 

They sat in silence for a while, just breathing and taking a moment, until Bellamy spoke. 

“You really… you were great today.” He said, almost as if he was surprised. “Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that you’re not a little kid anymore, but there were at least 3 times today you saved our asses.” 

“I’d say closer to four.” 

“Ah lets not get crazy.” He said, still staring up at the ceiling. 

“I was thinking, though.” She wasn’t sure if the courage came from escaping the police, from knowing the magic they had experienced as a kid was real, or from Bellamy’s sudden acknowledgement of the fact that she had grown, but she grabbed onto it and held firm. “I was thinking, on the way up here… I think I want to stay. I’ve lived with you my entire life, and I need to forge my own path. This house, it needs someone to look after it, and maybe make it into something new. This town is nice, I’d have no problem finding a job here… I think i’m gonna stay.” 

The silence between them was different than it had been in the car. Before, it had been tense and full of things unsaid. Octavia refusing to admit that she needed her space, Bellamy refusing to admit that she wasn’t a kid anymore. And somehow, a day full of magic, a day of going back to their childhood, had helped them say the things that needed saying. 

“You know what O,” Bellamy said, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand, “I think that’s a great idea.” 


End file.
